sidewalks of ice

The coarse swirl
of the world’s complacency
stills the eager mind.

Footprints of the vagabonds,
drunk in their dreams of escape,
Hint at the authenticity of the journey.

Heaven must surely reign
outside of this storm,
a god merely waiting to exist for it.

The darkness of the sunset
against an endless purity
calls every lover’s fair name.

The chills of the soul,
those tried and true pessimisms,
will bury us forever.

ignore the flag

A thousand willing ears
were bent to the occasion.

The copious program notes
promised a musical manifesto
of the most intricate variety:
A flourish of nationalistic decree,
The fidelity of the motherland,
Celebrated in the air around them,
An anthem of sonic proportions,
The newest in a line of compositions
by the fabled Composer Laureate
Not seen since before the Revolution
But now greater in glory than ever!

Two hands rested in their place
In front of the red-trimmed keys.
Silence beckoned- a most curious
Pause before the storm.
Finally, the fingers of the pianist
Lifted in reverence.

One thousand ears peaked,
Five hundred sharp breaths!

Surely a mistake? But no!
The pianist plays on!
Seductive and irregular rhythm,
Raging romantic sostenuto,
Tempos unknown!
What has happened?

It is approximately sixty seconds
Before the thought police
Make it onto the stage.
But they fail.
The piece is complete,
An exact dosage of dissidence!

The smirk of the performer
Could barely be seen
As they drug him offstage,
A most painful death awaiting,
The young mischievous boy
Sitting next to his general father
On the front row
The lone witness to it.
The lone seed by which chaos carries on.